The New Guy
by Mr-Herp-Derp
Summary: With a new rush of imaginary friends at the home, Frankie's been under a lot of stress lately. Then comes Bob, a man who wants to work at Foster's. He's allowed in strictly because of the sheer amount of work. Frankie befriends him, but what happens when the man's past catches up with him? Can Bob overcome the threat of his past or will it cause him more pain and suffering?
1. The Extra Body

My first, and maybe only, Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends story. A man comes to the home, offering to be an extra hand in taking care of things. With the increasing number of imaginary friends coming to the home, Madam Foster agrees. But what happens when this man's past begins to catch up with him?

Chapter one.

The Extra Body.

Frankie Foster finally found a chance to sit down and take a breather. This job certainly was getting to be more stressful, what with all the new friends coming in, but she loved her grandmother too much to quit. Plus, where else could she go? And who else to drive the Foster bus? Besides, some of these Imaginary friends had grown on her, and some under her skin. This job certainly had its stressful days, but no job was perfect, she figured. As she watched TV, the doorbell rang. She sighed, before getting up and putting on a face that didn't suggest she was already tense.

She opened the door, and looking back at her was another person. He was a bit taller than her, with brown hair. He looked to be about her age, and he wore a white button down shirt. Also, he wore a black belt, with khaki pants and black shoes. His face was bearing a pair of glasses, and his eyes were green.

"No," he said, "I'm no imaginary friend, but before you shut the door in my face, I'd like you to hear me out." What boldness. He didn't try to pretend to be an imaginary friend, but still wanted to talk to Frankie. She found herself unable to shut the door in his face, as much as Mr. Herriman would have urged it upon her. She leaned against the doorway, and gestured for him to continue.

"I know this place is family owned and ran," he began, "but maybe you might need an extra hand around here." That made Frankie think. This job was getting more stressful, so maybe an extra hand may not be a bad thing. Of course, Madame Foster ran the place, so she made the choices. She didn't know what her granny would say, but the worst of it would be no.

"Follow me," said Frankie. She led the man into the house, and to Madame Foster's office. She could hear Mr. Herriman talking to her, but she knocked anyway.

"Who is it?" came her grandmother's voice.

"Frankie," she called, "you got a minute?"

"Silly girl," said Foster, "I always have time for you, come in." She opened the door, and told her companion to follow in. Their eyes went straight to him.

"Ms. Frances," said Herriman, "If he's not an imaginary friend, he has to leave."

"He isn't," said Frankie, "but he wants to be hired."

"Now hang on," said Madame Foster, "I don't just hire anyone with a face. You gotta convince me why you're special, son."

"To do that," he said, "I'd have to tell you a bit of my life story."

"I love stories," said Foster, "take a seat and tell me." He sat down in one of the chairs in front of Madame's desk.

"You see," he stated, "it all began when I was a young lad. I had no friends, and my Mom had to work two jobs to keep me alive. I had no father, and got picked on a lot at school. When I imagined my imaginary friend, named Joe, who was strong, kind, and smart, all that turned around.

"I started having more friends, and got picked on less, because Joe would come to my rescue. He even helped my Mom meet the man that soon became my step father, and he pulled us out of our bare hover over poverty. Joe had helped us all.

"So I grew up, and Joe would have moved with me. Then I saw a young boy, who was being picked on by some bullies. I saw myself in this boy, and I looked to Joe. 'You helped me,' I said, 'now help someone else.' He was sad, but understood. He chased away the bullies, and right away, he and the boy clicked.

"So I'd like to find imaginary friends for other kids who need one." It took a moment for the story to sink in.

"Well," said Foster, after a few minutes, "we'd normally turn you away. But since we're having a lot more friends lately, we need an extra hand. Welcome aboard." She looked to her grand daughter, "Frankie, show this young man around." Frankie nodded, and led the man through the house.

"My name is Frankie," she said, extending her hand toward him, "and you are?"

"Name's Bob." He said, shaking her hand, and together they explored the house.


	2. Shown the Ropes

Shown the Ropes.

Frankie led Bob down the seemingly endless hallways of Foster's. She'd lived here for basically her whole life, and she knew the place like the back of her hands. She had this advantage over Bob, who was no doubt going to get lost from time to time. Which reminded her,

"Bob," she said, "something just came to me: Do you have a place to live?"

"A rather strange question," said Bob, "but the answer is yes. Why?"

"If you need to live here," she said, "we can make that arrangement."

"Well," said Bob, "thank you for telling me. If I lose my apartment in a fire or some other home losing factor, I'll move in here." Frankie smiled at his joke, and they continued their trek. Suddenly, what seemed like a red giant came to them.

He had red fur, with a red and white one on his chest. His eyes were long, like a crab's eyes. One of them stood straight, with the pupil doing its job, and the other was bent, crooked, with the pupil rolling around like a marble in a glass. He had a long arm on his left with a red, white, and blue wristband, and the other arm was merely a stub.

"Hey, Frankie," he hailed them, "who's your friend?"

"This is Bob," she said, gesturing to him, "he's just been hired."

"Hi Bob," said the red giant, extending his hand to Bob, "I'm Wilt."

"Nice to meet you, Wilt." Said Bob. Wilt excused himself, saying he had to clean up a vase that fell to the floor nearby. So as Frankie and Bob continued, they were greeted by another friend. It was like a bird, with a wacky green hair do. Its body looked something like a plane.

"Coco?" it asked Bob.

"No thank you." She repeated the Mantra of Coco,

"Her name is Coco," said Frankie, "and that's really her language." Bob introduced himself, and Coco excused herself.

Suddenly, they were greeted by a boy.

"Hey, Frankie," he hailed the woman, "who's this?"

"This is Bob," and Frankie knew she would be introducing him quite a lot, "he's working here now." Bob got down on a knee to shake the boy's hand.

"I'm Mac," said the boy, then noticed the massive scars on the equally massive hands that belonged to Bob, "Wow, your hands are huge, and covered in scars. Do you Box?"

"Smart lil' dude," said Bob, "I do box. Keeps me young and fit." The boy was soon joined by a what looked like a blue bullet.

"Hey Frankie," he said to her, "who's your boyfriend?"

"He's not my boyfriend," said Frankie, a bit assertively. The bullet smirked, and continued to tease her.

"You two are cute together." Frankie was starting to get unglued, as evidenced by the glare she gave him. Bob gathered that he pulled this crap all the time.

"You don't even know me," said Bob, "why treat me like I'm a buddy you can just dump that kind of crap on?" This made the bullet stop dead, before walking away uneasily.

"You'll have to forgive Bloo," said Mac, "he's kind of a smart alek, and tends to take things too far. He's a comedian that don't know when to stop being funny, but he's not so much a comedian." Bob nodded, as Frankie continued the tour.

...

A few hours later, Bob had seen the whole of the house, and met a plethora of imaginary friends. His feet felt like spikes had invaded his shoes, his brow was matted with sweat bullets, and he felt like he just ran a marathon. Frankie chuckled slightly.

"You'll get used to it," she told him, comfortingly. "Before you leave, can you give us some contact information? Phone number, email, things like that." Bob wrote the requested information on a form given by the green jacket clad woman, and then said his goodbyes, promising to be back bright and early tomorrow. Frankie warned him that he should avoid wearing fancy clothing to work, and that casual was the dress code.

...

Henry Jensen sat in the apartment, over a box of pizza that had just been delivered when he heard the deadbolt turn. The door swung open and there stood Bob. He looked like he just outran a T-Rex, with his sweaty brow, heavy breathing, and sluggish movements. He locked the door behind him and dropped his key in the keybowl.

"Hey," said Henry. Henry was a rather plump man, with short legs, bulgy kneecaps, fat arms, and a head with a mop curly red hair. He loved to give friends a hard time, and make jokes. He even made jokes about his own bulk.

"Yo," said Bob, his usual greeting towards Henry. He sat down at the table, and grabbed a slice of pizza, having it down the hatch in seconds flat.

"Wow," said the red headed man, "and I thought I was hungry. You get the job?"

"Yeah," said Bob, working into his second slice, nearly making every bite his last. With a few slices of Pizza under his belt, Bob began to feel less worn out. He showered, got into his pajamas, and went to bed. Tomorrow he would start work at his new job, and he hoped that this would give him the restart he so desperately needed.


	3. The First Day on the Job

The First Day on the Job.

"Where's my money, you piece of ****?" Demanded his attacker, slamming his head into a wall.

"I swear," he pleaded, "I'll have it to you by next week."

"That's what you said last week," the attacker kicked him in the gut as he tried to get up, "and the week before that. You're not fooling me with that again. Oh, I get it." He grabbed his victim's hair, and yanking him so they were face to face. "You think I'm _stupid_, is that it?"

"No," the man pleaded. He felt a tugging, and before the attacker could hit him again, he woke up.

"Bro," said a voice, which filled him with relief. It was Henry.

"Good morning," said Bob, but Henry wasn't there for that,

"You were screaming again," he said, "is it the nightmares?"

"Yeah," said Bob. Henry gave him a look, "what?"

"You need to talk to me," he said, "I have a degree in psychology, I can help you."

"I've told you," said Bob, "I can't tell you. It's secret." Henry obviously didn't agree with Bob's logic but shrugged it off. Bob looked at the clock. No point in going back to sleep, he had to shape up and ship out. Frankie never established a specific time for him to show up, but she did tell him to be early.

Bob showered, and dressed in blue jeans, a black T-Shirt, and brown sneakers. He grabbed a few slices of the pizza on his way out.

"Bye," he called to his roommate as he left.

...

He pulled up to Foster's and walked in. Frankie was sweeping the foyer when she saw him.

"Good," she said, "you're here." Suddenly, a voice came from the old fashioned PA system,

"Miss Francis," it was the voice of Mr. Herriman, "There is a mess in the kitchen. You and Mister Bob get it cleaned up." Frankie sighed.

"I don't know how many times I've told him,"" she said, "my name is Frankie. Well, let's get started." So Frankie and Bob set out to clean the kitchen.

It certainly was a mess. Globs of goo everywhere, identified by the smell as peanut butter. It stuck to the floor, the walls, cupboards, and even some on the ceiling. Bob grabbed a mop and a bucket while Frankie grabbed a sponge and a bucket of hot water. She grabbed a step ladder and climbed it, scrubbing a cupboard.

Meanwhile, Coco laid an Egg, and Eduardo opened it. Inside was a toy truck, complete with a bed one could flip up. She laid another egg, and in this one was a remote control. Eduardo set the truck down and began to fiddle with the remote. He didn't know that upon a touch of a button, or the moving of one of the sticks, that the truck would go around and do whatever it darn pleased.

The truck rolled into the kitchen, unseen by Bob and Frankie. It rolled around the gooey globs of peanut butter, and under Frankie's stepladder. It shot its bed up with such force, the stepladder became a catapult, launching her like a lawn dart. She was caught off guard, and let out a yelp, like anyone who was suddenly thrown. Bob looked up, to see her flying through the air towards the ground.

"Frankie!" He cried, and caught her. There was an awkward moment. He was holding Frankie bridal style. She had grabbed what she could get her hands on for support, and grabbed onto his neck. Not in a choking fashion, but more of a holding on sort of way. Bob rather liked carrying her like this, not knowing why. Frankie didn't mind being held this way. Both stared at each other, blushing heavily. Neither of them knew how to react.

"Ummm," said a voice; the voice of Bloo, "Why are you holding her like that?" Bob set her down, and faced Bloo,

"She fell," he said, "I caught her." They could see mischief in his gaze. Bob reached into his pocket and pulled out a five dollar bill, which Bloo stared at,

"If you keep this under your hat," said the man, "I'll make it worth your while." Bloo nodded, taking the money and leaving. Putting it into his pocket, he smirked,

"I don't have a hat."

...

Meanwhile, Frankie and Bob were still cleaning the kitchen, with a tiny dent made in the mess, when one of the Imaginary friends came by.

"Frankie," he said, "I never knew you liked being swept off your feet." She raised an eyebrow to him.

"What are you talking about?" she asked him.

"Letting the new guy carry you like that, it must be love at first sight." Frankie was furious,

"BLOO!" she shouted, so loudly that nearly everyone in the house heard it. Bloo was the only one who did not hear it, as he was too busy talking to Mac about what he had seen.

"Bloo," said Mac, knowing what was happening as soon as Frankie yelled, "You just told everyone in the house a lie."

"My eyes saw it," Bloo insisted, "Bob is trying to get in on it with Frankie, and Frankie isn't doing anything to discourage it."

"I'm sorry," said Wilt sternly, who came in behind him, "but that is definitely not okay. You just ruined Frankie's reputation." At this moment, Frankie stormed in.

"You are so dead," said Frankie, her voice unsteady with anger. Bob came in shortly after, and he wasn't too happy either.

"I gave you MONEY," said Bob, "I paid you for your silence, but since you didn't live up to your promise, give me my money back." Bloo handed it back to him. Madame Foster and Mr. Herriman were also mad at him.

"For your punishment," said Herriman, "you're going to finish cleaning the kitchen." Bloo spent the rest of the day, sulking as he cleaned the Peanut Butter, and it was later found that he was the one that made it happen in the first place. He was sent to bed without dinner.

...

Later that day, Bob returned to his apartment. He was greeted by Henry.

"Someone came by today," he said.

"Who was it?" asked Bob.

"He was dodging my questions," said Henry, "he insisted that someone named Steven Heartstrudder lived here." Had he been paying attention, Henry would have noticed a flash of nervousness in Bob's face.

"What did he want?" asked Bob, his voice shaking.

"He just said he was looking for that person, and that he _knew _he was here. Do you know someone by that name?" Bob sighed. He knew he couldn't keep this away from Henry anymore; he was now involved, and therefore in danger.

"What I'm about to tell you," said Bob, in a serious tone, "never leaves this room. Okay?" Henry nodded, glad that Bob was finally letting him in on the secret. "That is my real name, Steven Heartstrudder. Let's just say that as a child, trying to raise money for my family, I got mixed up in the wrong crowd." As Bob kept talking, Henry knew he could never look at him the same way again.

"I just remembered," said Henry, "we're low on some groceries. Let's get them, since neither of us have anything going on right now." Bob agreed, and the pair drove off towards the store.


	4. A home up in flames

A home up in flames.

The night was wearing on, and Henry and Bob had finished their shopping. They bought a little more food, some toiletries, and a bundle of tissue boxes, as they were running low, and Bob had allergies in the summer.

"We got what we need?" asked Henry,

"I think s- oh my god!" Bob pointed forward, to a smokestack. It was in the direction they were heading.

"Is that-" Henry began,

"I really hope not." said Bob. Henry slammed on the pedal, and they shot down the road. They soon arrived, and their worst fears were realized. The Shady Beach Apartment complex, and the parking garage next to it, were up in flames. Bob and Henry leapt from the car after it was parked and ran to it, only to be restrained by firemen.

"It doesn't look like," said one of them, "this is going to be put out until it's all embers. Our hoses haven't even slowed it down." And as if on cue, with a loud crash, and another sound resembling a giant's plate being smashed to bits, the apartment and its sister parking garage, were now rubble and flaming embers. As if the fire had had its fun, the Firemen were able to put it out.

...

Bob sat away from the ruins, alone. He had a feeling this was somewhat his fault, for the man looking for him had connections. Henry came to him.

"I swear," he said into his cellphone, "I'll be out as soon as I find a new place. What? Hold on a minute." He pulled the phone away from his ear, "do you need to stay with me and my brother?" Right after he said that, a huge multicolored bus pulled up. The door opened, and in the driver's seat sat a red headed woman. She wore a green jacket, with a white T-Shirt and a blue skirt.

"Bob," she said, "I came as soon as I found out what happened. I heard your apartment's name on the news and came over. I'm sorry to hear it. Get in, you don't have anyplace to live, and the room and boarding at Foster's is still on the table." Bob tried to decline, but Frankie wouldn't take no for an answer. Finally, Bob said goodbye to Henry, and climbed aboard the bus.

"Wait," said Henry. "before you go, take these." He handed Bob the boxes of tissues, before getting into his car and driving off.

"Did he just steal your car?" asked Frankie,

"No," said Bob, "my car was in the garage." Frankie got out of her seat and hugged him sympathetically.

Bob knew that those who were after him weren't going to give up so easily. When his mangled and burned corpse was not found, and his face not in the obituaries, they'd know they burned the building for nothing, and find him elsewhere.

He knew that him living in Foster's would put everyone in it in the firing line. He contemplated his options. A, live at Foster's and wait for them to find him and make collateral damage of everyone there. And B, try and sneak out, thus saving everyone's butts. He chose the latter. Why should his new found friends suffer when it was _him_ the bad guys were after? The Answer: They shouldn't.

...

The next night, and Bob was ready. This job hadn't given him the restart he needed. They'd found him again, and he was once again back at square one. He snuck down stairs, and reached for the doorknob.

"And where do you think you're going?" asked a voice, which shattered the silence. Bob jumped, and he looked to where the voice had come from. It was Madame Foster.

"I was just-" Bob began, but she cut him off,

"You're not allowed to leave at this time. We have curfew around here. If you break that rule, everyone's going to know." Bob found it hard to believe, and so he turned the knob. Apparently, he wasn't the first to try and sneak out. As soon as he had just barely turned the knob, an extremely loud alarm sounded. He guessed it could wake everyone in the house. But before any angry friends came down, Foster hit a switch, and the sound stopped.

...

The following day, Bob and Frankie went to the park. Madame Foster told them they needed to get some groceries, and they decided to stop here to take a breather.

"So Bob," said Frankie, "why did you try to leave last night?"

"How did you know it was me?"

"Everyone but you," she said, "knows that Madame Foster isn't fond of people sneaking out at bedtime. Now answer the question." Bob was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He wanted to tell Frankie, but wasn't obliged to. Thankfully, he was saved from having to do so. A man with a disfigured face came around to the people in the park. He'd been a war hero, and had been shot in the face several times. Everyone he went to showed their thanks for what he did by giving him money.

Bob and Frankie opened their wallets to him when he came by. When suddenly, a different man came to them. He wore a leather jacket with leather pants to match. Black boots and a mean looking face completed the outfit. It was clear he was up to no good.

"You gave him money," said the man, gravely voice, "now how about some for me."

"Sorry," said Frankie, "I used up my last spare dollar." The man didn't take that sitting down, he forcefully grabbed her arm,

"Give me that damn money," Frankie got equally mad and punched the man in the face.

"Big mistake, bitch." He said, and threw her to the ground. Bob wasn't about to sit and watch this man hurt his friend.

"Hey," He said, standing up, "leave her alone." The man turned from Frankie, who was on the ground in pain.

"You want some of this?" he demanded. Bob answered by raising his fists queensbury rules. The man lunged, but Bob ducked and punched the man in the gut. The man yelped, as he recoiled, which gave Bob time to uppercut him.'

"No more Mr. Nice Guy," Yelled the man as he threw a kick at Bob's head. He grabbed the attacker's foot and held it up, leaving him vulnerable for a punch to the groin. Soon, he had the man reduced to a quivering piece of jelly. He came to Frankie and asked if she was okay.

"Yeah," she said, "just need a minute." Bob helped her to her feet and gently set her on the bench.

"Where did you learn that?" she asked him,

"I box to keep fit," said Bob, "and it has its positive side effects."

"Could you teach me?" she asked him,

"I don't see why not," said the man, "just remember that I can't be held responsible if you get hurt." Frankie agreed, and so when she was okay again, they went back to Foster's.

...

When they returned, Madame Foster was the first they saw, and Frankie was a sight to behold. She had a black eye, bruises all around her face, and a fat lip.

"What happened?!" she asked, bewildered.

"Some guy attacked us," said Frankie, "but Bob fought him off. I asked him to teach me to Box."

"Thank you for helping her." said Foster.

...

They found a room in Foster's with plenty of room to roam, and secluded so no one could accidentally walk in trying to find the bathroom.

"First," said Bob, "I want to see how hard you can punch." He held his hand up and braced himself, and tapped his hand, "picture my hand as something that makes you angry, and strike it." Frankie imagined the man who attacked them just hours ago. She balled her fist, pulled it back, and let it fly. Her hand bounced off of Bob's thumb, and hit him in a different area: His face. He recoiled, cupping his hands over his offended nose.

"Oh my god!" Cried Frankie, "I'm sorry."

"Do you have a lot of built up anger?" he asked her, blood dripping between his fingers. Frankie got him some tissues, and he managed to get the bleeding to stop. "Now that we've gauged how hard you can punch, let's go over the proper stance." Bob moved Frankie's arms and legs as if she was a mannequin in a department store. Her left leg was out in front, her right in the back. Her arms here held up like she was really about to box somebody.

"Put more weight on your back leg," said Bob, "so you can lunge into a punch." After a while, she was in the stance he wanted her in, the same one his teacher put him in. Bob grabbed a foam block, as wide as a car door.

"Let's pretend this is your foe," said Bob, "have at him." Frankie lunged forward, but accidentally kneed herself in the back of her left knee, and started to fall. Bob dropped the foam block and caught her. They stood, toe to toe, hip to hip, breast to chest. They were so close, they could feel their breath on each other's faces. Another awkward moment between them, also accidental.

"Are you okay?" asked Bob.

"I'll live," said Frankie. They eventually pulled away, blushing madly.

A lot has happened in this chapter so I'll cut it here. But now I'm out of ideas. If somebody has one, please send it my way.


	5. Mourning Lost Ones

Mourning Lost Ones

Frankie grabbed the keys to the bus and headed to the door. She had gotten into the habit of doing this awhile back. Her solemn face told everyone who saw it she was doing something very personal and close to her heart. No one, not even Bloo, dared to joke about it, that's how much it meant to her. She hopped into the driver's seat, and started the engine, as it purred to life.

She'd expected to see Bob and have him ask her what she was doing, but she hadn't seen hide nor hair of him at all today. Their boxing lessons were still in effect, and she was getting much better at it too, nearly rivaling Bob, though he swore he was just an ameture who only used it for keeping fit and self defence.

She soon arrived at her destination: a graveyard. She parked the bus and walked in. She saw a figure, clad in a green shirt and blue jeans, with white sneakers, and brown hair. She approached it: It was Bob. He was kneeling before a headstone which read,

"Beatrice Heartstrudder

Beloved Mother."

"Good morning Mom," he said to it, "did you sleep well?" He paused, like he was waiting for a response. "Good. I haven't been able to sleep all that much, despite having a cozy room with lots of new clothes, thanks to Madame Foster. I had insisted there was no need, that I would do it myself, but she was firm that she provide me with that wardrobe. But I digress. Those guys are still after me, and I fear that me living at that home will put those inside it in danger.

"I have tried to leave, but they won't let me. I work there, mind, I guess you could say I'm a live in servant." He continued talking. Frankie didn't know what he was going on about, and assumed it a cover story for trying to sneak out. He soon stood, and eyed Frankie.

"Whoa!" He cried, but then calmed down, "how much did you hear of that?"

"I heard enough," said Frankie, "How did you lose her?"

"She was murdered on my graduation day," said Bob, wiping away a tear, "and my father died in a car accident the day I was born."

"I'm so sorry," said Frankie, "but there's something I want to show you." She led him further into the graveyard. The pair was soon standing before a set of Headstones. The first one read.

"Fredrick Foster.

Husband

Father

Soldier"

The second one read,

"Franchesca Foster

Mother

Wife."

Bob looked them over.

"I came to pay my respects to my parents," she said, "I didn't know about their deaths until I was eighteen. Before then I was told they had gone on a vacation and were still gone. My grandmother never lied to me so I always believed it. Then, on my eighteenth birthday, I found I'd been had. It was in my parents' will that I watch a video tape of them telling me that if they died early, that they would want me to grow up and be happy.

"I was a baby when they died, so I didn't remember them. I grew up around many of the friends, and thus I became very attached the the business and that's how I got where I am today. A few days later, I made a pact that I would visit their graves regularly." Bob could see shining tears on Frankie's face. He dared to put his arm around her shoulder. She set her head on his shoulder, and started to cry.

He continued to hold her, and she wept over her parents. No longer were they just friends, both could tell. They were now very close to each other, dare they say best friends. Frankie found somebody who had lost their parents tragically as well. They could relate to one another, aside from their love of imaginary friends.

For a while, Bob and Frankie stood like this, in this embrace. People who saw assumed he was helping her over a loss, and to a point, he was. Finally, Frankie released him, and dried her tears.

"We should go back," she said, "but first, I need a moment alone." Bob nodded, and waited for her on a bench. After a while, she came to him, and he drove home, and she drove the bus back to the home.

…

The pair arrived back at the home, and began their boxing lesson. It had gone from going over stances, to punch practice, and now to sparring. Frankie remembered Bob's lessons on bobbing and weaving, and they payed off well. She claimed Bob as an excellent teacher, but he wouldn't hear it.

Little did Frankie know that she would get a chance to use her new skills for real. The following day, they were at the store. They were buying some more groceries, when all of a sudden, a man burst in the door, with a machete.

"Everyone," he yelled, "this is a robbery, do as I say and nobody gets hurt, all right? Now everyone on the ground." Frankie did not heed, she charged it him with her fists raised and punched his hand so hard he dropped the machete. He turned and tried to kick her, but she weaved away from it and punched him in the nose. He recoiled, and Frankie darted forward and punched him in the throat. He gagged, and with another punch to his head, Frankie had the man knocked out. Police soon arrived and arrested him before he even woke up.

People hailed her as a hero, and the store allowed her and Bob to take the groceries for free as a reward for saving them.

Frankie has used her boxing skills to fend off a robber. Will she be able to use them again? One way to find out. And who are the Men Bob mentioned to his mother?


	6. Things Take A Turn (For The Worst)

Things take a turn...For The Worst.

It was a normal day at Foster's. Mac had come over to visit Bloo as per the norm. His crush on Frankie was still active, but today, he would be shot down. When Bloo was off playing video games with Wilt, he went to talk to Frankie.

"So," said a passing imaginary friend. He was tall and lanky, with green fur and a red top hat, "did you hear about about Frankie and Bob?" Mac stopped dead, following them,

"Yeah," said his companion. He was short, with puffy blue hair, and a single eye, walking on impossibly skinny black legs, "I saw her kissing his cheek with my own eye. You shoulda seen him blush; I thought he'd turn tomato." Mac spoke up,

"Please tell me you're kidding." said Mac, doing everything not to cry.

"No," said the blue bush, "I don't know how to lie." Just then, he heard more footsteps, and a voice: Frankie! Mac jumped into a closet, as Frankie talked into her cell phone,

"Yeah," she said, giggling, "I kissed him on the cheek. He blushed so hard, it was adorable. I wish you could have seen it." Well, no more evidence was needed. It was clear as day, straight from the very lips that kissed Bob, Frankie had found someone, and would never date Mac. Devastated and soul crushed, Mac ran out of Foster's, and didn't stop until he was back home. When he arrived, he shut the door to his room, and locked it behind him. He began to write an angry letter to Bob, when suddenly, the door swung open. There stood the last person he wanted to see right now: Terrence.

"What's up, baby bro," there was mischief in his voice, and a smirk on his face,

"The door was locked for a reason," said Mac, flatly, "what more do I need to do? Post a sign saying keep out, big stupid brother?" A very poor choice of words for Mac. Terrence stomped over to his desk,

"Whatcha writin' there?" he asked, and shoved Mac away, picking up the letter,

"Dear Bob,

How could you steal Frankie from me?" Terrence continued reading, in a mock sadness voice.

"Put that down!" Demanded Mac, but Terrence was enjoying this too much to obey. He pushed Mac away with his foot, and kept reading. When all of a sudden, a shrill voice sounded,

"TERRENCE, YOU GO TO YOUR ROOM, AND FORGET ABOUT DINNER!" Terrence put the letter down, walked away, grumbling as he went. Mac's mom focused on her younger son.

"Come with me," she said, and Mac followed her. They sat down on her bed,

"What was that about." Mac told her about what happened at foster's that day, and how he was writing that angry letter to mellow out.

"Honey," said his mother, "don't look at it that way. Instead of being upset that Frankie is with someone that isn't you, be happy. Be happy that Frankie found her special someone, and that she herself is happy." Mac hadn't looked at it that way. IT wasn't going to be easy, but Mac knew he had to let Frankie be happy, and find someone else.

But before he could thank his mother, there was the deafening sound of wood and metal giving way, and landing in pieces on the floor. There was the clatter of multiple footsteps, and then Terrance's voice yelling, "What the heck?!"

Men in charcoal gray suits stormed in, one of which dragged in Terrence, with a twelve caliber pistol to his head, as he sobbed and begged to be spared. Mac's mother gasped.

"What is the meaning of this?" she asked, "what do you want? Money? Our TV? You can take what you want, just please don't kill us."

"Get over here," said one of them meanly, grabbed his mother and holding her against him, drawing a similar pistol and pointing it at her head.

Mac was getting ready to panic. He'd never been in this situation before. Another man came in, but he stood out like a sore thumb. He was tall, with broad shoulders, ebony hair on his head and face, and wore an ivory suit. He took a drag from a massive cigar, and puffed out a cloud of smoke like he was a dragon, even though it was a no smoking room. He then flicked the cigar all the way across the room and it landed in the trash can against the wall.

If he could flick a cigar that big across the room, with just his index finger in such a calm mood, Mac hated to think what he could do if he was angry. He looked around the room, "It's nice," he said, his voice clear, deep, and loud, and he was serenaded with a chorus of agreements from his men.

"Real nice," "Not too shabby," "I'd not mind living here." The man then stared down at Mac. His shades hid his eyes, but Mac wouldn't be surprised if there was ice in the stare. "I don't think the janitor would like cleaning blood today."

"He'd hate it," "Ruin his day," "What a rotten job for him."

"So," said the mob boss, "don't give him that job, young man. If you tell us where the one you know as Bob is, we'll leave, with no harm done to you or your family. I think you'd hate it too, if these nice carpets were covered in blood."

"You'd be none too happy," "A regular grump," "What a rain on your parade."

"I warn you," said the man, "my men have itchy trigger fingers, so don't take too long to give me what I need."

"Real itchy," "Might need lotion," "Too dry." Mac didn't like what he was about to do, but didn't want to see either his mom or brother die, even if Terrence was a major pain the butt.

"He lives and works at Foster's Home For Imaginary Friends."

"Thank you, young man." Said the man, "you've done me a big favor."

"Real big," "Ginormous," "Monumental."

"Come," said the boss to his men, "he lived up to his end of the deal, let's live up to ours." The men released their hostages and cleared out.

…

On the limo drive back to the hideout, the man pulled a titanium cell phone from his expensive suit pocket.

"Big J," he said into it, "how are you?"

"Good," said the voice on the other end,

"Splendid," said the boss, "listen, I have a favor."

"What shall it be?" asked the voice,

"Go to a place called Foster's home for imaginary friends. Find Bob, and if he's not there, make an offer they can't refuse, so they MUST send him to us."

"Yes sir."

"Good. Get to it." He hung up.

The next day at Foster's...

All was well at Foster's, when suddenly, the door flew across the foyer with the thunderous sound of wood smashed by a being of astronomical strength. He was tall, very muscular, and orange fur.

"Here's Joey," He said, and commenced terrorizing the house.

"I'm sorry," said Wilt, addressing him, "but that is definitely not okay." Joe found this annoying, grabbing Wilt by the neck,

"Shut it, Pencil Neck." He yelled, and threw him to the floor, leaving him gasping for air. Enraged, Eduardo sprinted towards him, head down and horns in a lethal position. Lethal, that is, to all except for Joe. He grabbed Ed by his horns and spun him around, before releasing him and tossing him through the wall. He rolled to a stop on the lawn, before spinning into unconsciousness.

Coco Laid an egg which unleashed a catapult that launched Bombs.

"Where is Bob?!" He demanded, returning the bomb to the sender. Coco was sent flying like a rag doll by the explosion. She survived, thankfully, with only minor injuries.

"Bob's not here," said a voice. It was Frankie, holding a mop like a staff.

"Oh," said Joe, pretending to turn and leave, but he switched direction and charged at Frankie. She tossed the mop like a javelin, but Joe merely caught it and threw it behind him, all without changing speed. He grabbed her around the neck. Madame Foster charged like a knight, but with a kick, she was sent flying into the wall, before she too, fell unconscious. Joe held his thumb into Frankie's neck. She struggled, for his thumb closed her windpipe.

She tried as hard as she could to pull it away, but it was like trying to move a giant boulder with a toothpick; unless you're Superman, it's impossible. Soon, with the oxygen not reaching her brain, she passed out.

"You killed her," said a voice behind her. Mac stood there, enraged.

"No," said the fiend, "she's alive, just passed out. Now if you want to see her alive again, you'll send Bob to the Marble Docks." And with that, Joe left. Thankfully, none of his victims died. It was like he was being careful.

Mac ran outside, trying to chase the figure, when all of a sudden, a huge bus pulled up.

Bob had been out changing the oil on the bus, so he was oblivious to the attack. When he pulled near the house, Eduardo was laying face down on the lawn.

"Oh no," said Bob, his worst fears confirmed. He parked the bus and ran to the purple giant. Rolling him gently to his back, he put his head on the behemoth's chest, before heaving a sigh of relief; a pulse. He noticed the splinters in Ed's face, and the huge hole in the wall. He ran inside, and he saw the carnage. Wilt was trying to breath again.

"Wilt," yelled Bob, running to the red giant.

"Oh," said Wilt, his voice raspy due to his damage throat, "you're here. WE just had a huge beast tear us all down. He got Eduardo, like you saw, and me. He also got Coco and Madame Foster." Foster limped down the stairs, and looked at Bob,

"He has Frankie," she said, before passing out due to her injuries. That was it. Bob was tired of running. IF it was a fight they wanted, so be it. They had sent a monster to damage the home, and with the girl he was falling for gone, it was the straw that broke the mule. If it was a fight they wanted, he'd grant their boon.

"They told us," said Mac, running in winded, "to send you to the marble docks."

"Then so be it," said Bob. He ran up to his room, and opened his dressor. He saw what he was looking for, and hid it under his shirt. He then took the Frankie's sedan keys from a coffee table and drove like a mad man down there.


	7. The Truth

The Truth.

Bob parked the car around a blind corner from the Marble Docks. These were docks made strictly from marble. Massive statues of sea sirens stood against the end, over the icy water known as the ocean. Inside the statues, there was a special type of reinforcement. It was twice as strong as steel, but flexible, so statue repairs would be very easy. The statues were extremely heavy, nearly twenty thousand pounds apiece.

Bob refocused and opened the door. He took the object from under his shirt: A silver magnum with a wood handle. It had been a gift from his stepfather's will, as he was always a gun lover. He crouched behind a massive flower pot, where a tree rested. Nobody could see him when he hid behind it. Bob then crawled silently from hiding spot to hiding spot, looking for any sign of Frankie.

So far, his search was fruitless. Then he saw someone which filled him with fear and anger. He was a man with ebony hair, both on his head and face. He was insanely tall, with broad shoulders and pitch black sunglasses. He was clad in a white suit,and from his inside suit pocket, a gun butt hung out. The suit was designed this way, so he could pull out his gun and fire if he needed to.

But before Bob could keep sneaking, he heard the click of a hammer being pulled back.

"Drop it," barked a harsh voice.

_Damn_, thought Bob, letting the magnum clatter to the marble floor. His attacker grabbed him by his shirt collar.

"Someone wants to see you," he said, dragging him.

…

Daniel Hielo stood and watched the waves crash against the marble docks. He loved the sound of them, and the smell of sea water. He took a drag from his cigar, when he heard a jumble of footsteps approaching on the marble stairs. He turned, and who should he see, but the man he'd been chasing for the past seventeen years.

"So it's you," said Daniel, "you finally put on your big boy pants and faced me like a man. I guess a kidnapping of a girl was all you needed. This is where I would kill you for being a nuisance for nearly two decades, but I think that _someone_ owes _someone_ an explanation. Men, take him to her."

…

Frankie Foster sat with her back against the cold metal. What was going to become of her? Would they swing the door open and plant a bullet in her head? Frankie was unsure about the future, but all of a sudden, the door opened.

"Get in there, you!" There was the thud of a body landing on a metal floor, and the huge doors to the storage unit slammed shut, with some kind of lock activating with a KERCHUNK! By now, Frankie's eyes had adjusted to the darkness. The new prisoner was none other than Bob.

"Bob!" She cried, going to him. "Why are you here?"

"Why else?" he asked, "to rescue you. But I have something you need to hear. I am partially the reason why you're here." Even in the darkness, he could see her eyebrow raise.

"What do you mean?"

"You see," he said, "it's like this. My real name isn't Robert Williams. It's Steven Heartstrudder. I told you part of my back story when talking to her granny, but not the whole thing. With my mom in poverty, I wanted to find a way to put money on the table. I was eleven years old, young and naive. When I heard from a man I could make money to help mommy dearest, I naturally said yes. Little did I know, he was a mafia recruiter. They were looking for young boys to go in the begging business.

"It was all well and good at first, what little money I got to keep went to my mom. But as I got older, I was removed from begging, and into more serious stuff. I was taking part in the whacks the mafia did, and other heinous crimes. I didn't care about the money anymore, and I wanted out. Like I said, I was young and naive. You can't just walk out on the Mafia. I did everything to try and evade them. Eventually, the Witness Protection got involved, and changed my name to Robert Williams, and I decided to go by Bob.

"But trying to evade a mafia head honcho is like playing chess with a three year old: he likes to change the rules. So I thought that with my new name and history, that I could just forget about them. That is, until they found me again. I got away again, and got involved with you, hoping that the new job would trip them up. But it didn't." He bowed his head in shame.

As much as Frankie wanted to be angry, she knew she couldn't. He was just trying to help his family, and never intended it to get this bad. The pair huddled together to beat the cold, and somehow managed to drift into sleep, even though they knew they'd not be alive tomorrow.

Oh dear, how is this going to turn out? Will they really die or will something save them, if not themselves? Stay Tuned to find out.


	8. Showdown

Showdown

Bob and Frankie remained in the storage container. They'd lost all track of time, huddled together to beat the cold. It was just a matter of time before the doors were thrown open and the bad guys ended their short lived lives.

When all of a sudden, there came the sound of metal being torn, and the doors thrown forcefully open. The pair released themselves, looking and waiting for a man with a gun. Rather, it was a huge imaginary friend, with orange fur.

"No way," cried Bob, "Joe?"

"Way," said Joe, a smirk on his face, "I know I'm breaking the rules right now, but I just can't resist the opportunity to kill you." Joe grabbed the storage unit and began to push it. They knew that the water was behind them, and if the thing fell it, it was so heavy that it would drag them down to a watery doom. Thankfully, Bob saw a bit of dirt in the corner. Grabbing it in one hand and Frankie's in the other, he charged for the threshold.

"Oh," said Joe, "You'd rather be killed directly. I can oblige that." As they left the unit, Bob threw the dirt, knowing he had only one shot. Thankfully, it hit the target. Joe recoiled, yelling as dirt blinded him. Bob saw something: His Magnum. Untouched by the gangsters, he ran to grab it. He didn't want to kill Joe, and hoped he could find a way around doing so, but he would do it if he had to.

As he wrapped his fingers around the handle, Joe regained his vision, and charged at Bob. He rolled, and in doing so, saw a black cylinder sticking from Joe's back. That hadn't been there the last time Bob and Joe had seen each other, so maybe that had something to do with Joe's turn. He aimed the magnum and fired. With a few sparks, the cylinder fell of and exploded in a small fireball.

Joe stopped what he was doing.

"What?" he asked, "Where am I? Last I remembered I was..." Suddenly, his brain was flooded with memories of joining with the gang. From the first initiation, all the way to rampaging the home full of his imaginary brethren. He even remembered trying to kill Steven and his companion. The orange giant dropped to his knees and cried. Huge gooey tears slid down his face and onto the ground. Bob, or Steven, whichever you prefer, ran to his friend and tried to console him.

"Steven," sobbed the friend, "how can you forgive me after all that I did?"

"It wasn't your fault," said the man, "you were under their control, you had no way of knowing what you were doing."

"I have to make up for this somehow," said Joe, wiping his eyes off. He saw a convoy of black vehicles, one of them was a long black limo.

"Time for a little payback," said Joe. He lifted the storage unit that once held Frankie and Bob and gave a mighty toss. The huge steel box flew through the air.

…

Daniel knew it was time. Time to put an end to his nuisance named Bob. Seventeen years of chasing the man to get what he was owed would finally come to a close, even if it was without monetary gain. He sat in the backseat of his limo, oblivious to what was about to happen. The limo swerved suddenly, and Daniel's scotch flew from its glass and soaked him.

"What the hel-" he began to yell, but an explosion cut him off. The limo began to spin, and his glasses fell off. Time began to slow down. The driver of the limo was thrown through the windshield and into the icy water along with the rest of his gang. He saw an orange giant, with two figures, one of them in a green jacket. He knew what had happened. Bob had found and destroyed the device built to turn Joe evil.

Rage filled him, he would kill them all. He threw down what was left of his drink and sprinted as the car was tipping into the water. He just barely dove Superman style out the window before it was too late. But before he could draw his gun and fire, part of the shattered windshield caught a bit of his pants and tried to drag him down to the water. Daniel grabbed the marble edge, just as the glass released his leg and flew into the water, slicing his leg on its way down. He pulled himself up, but he knew his leg was soon to be an issue.

He pulled out his gun and aimed at the orange blob in the distance. His eyes were damaged, and could not register another figure raising its own gun. He heard two loud bangs, the zip of a bullet whizzing by, before hearing the splat of a bullet finding its target. He felt his nine millimeter pistol fall from his hand, and heard it clatter to the marble floor before falling to the ocean. What agony overcame his chest, and a huge splatter of blood soaked his nice white suit. Bob had to be the shooter, and no way was he getting away with that.

"Bob," yelled the man, in an agonized tone, "you think you can beat me? You may have shot me, but no way am I about to let you live. Come here and we'll settle this like gentlemen." He charged at his foe.

…

Bob saw the charging figure with a bloody top. It was time to end this, and make up for all the damage he was responsible for.

"Frankie," he said, "you and Joe go back to Foster's." He tossed her her sedan keys,

"But what about you?" asked Frankie,

"I have to end what I started seventeen years ago." he began to run over to Daniel, but Frankie grabbed his arm,

"Before you go," she said, "take this." She planted a kiss on his lips, before Bob fell into the kiss. It was a burning, tender feeling, lasting for a few seconds before they pulled away. "In case I don't see you again." Frankie took Joe, who was crying again,

"My little buddy's growing up," he said through his tears. The woman and the orange giant started towards Frankie's car, but he had other ideas. Joe grabbed Frankie by the arm,

"What are you doing?" she asked him. He scaled the wall, with her hanging. She was about to yelp, but before it, her feet were once again on terra firma. Joe had taken her to the top of a building.

"No way am I about to abandon my creator," said Joe, "and look, ringside seats." Frankie knew Bob wouldn't want this, but Joe wouldn't have it any other way. She was forced to watch her lover fight.

…

Bob threw the magnum to the floor. Boxing didn't allow for fighting an unarmed man with a gun. He charged and lunged into a punch. But Daniel had other plans. He grabbed Bob's arm and threw him to the floor. Despite having taken a gunshot to the chest and his leg sliced like deli, it hadn't done a thing to his might. Bob rolled to him and laid a blow to the groin, and when he bent over in pain, he uppercut Daniel to the face.

Daniel landed with a thud, his chest and leg were beginning to play up, he was gasping for air, and his leg was begging him to stop. But he wasn't about to let Bob get away with the score. He drove his good leg into Bob's gut, before springing up to tackle him, but failed to knock him off his feet. Bob stayed loyal to his pugilist fighting style, punching his foe in the chest, before grabbing his head, tucking into his armpit, and laying three punches to his face. Daniel kicked him in the back of the knees, and Bob toppled due to the force.

"If this keeps up," said Daniel, "you'll win. I'm not about to see it happen." Opened his suit coat, and lightning fast threw a knife. The blade stuck in Bob's gut, and he yelled in agony.

…

Joe saw that Daniel had used a knife to lay a mortal wound into his creator, and no way was he getting away with that. He looked around for something heavy and what should he see but an air conditioner. He ripped it from the roof, knowing he only had one shot. He spun like an orange tornado, before releasing the air conditioner like a log thrower. It sailed right over the fighters, but that was what he wanted.

…

Daniel was about to stab his foe to death, when suddenly he heard the sound of stone splitting, like a giant's plate cracking. He looked, and the orange buffoon had thrown an air conditioner, assumingly at him, and hit the ten ton statues.

"Ha," He yelled, "you missed." He raised his knife, when all of a sudden, something with a serious force wrapped around his wrist. He was thrown away from Bob, the steel cable yanking his arm so hard that it ripped his shoulder from the socket, resulting in instant agony. But he knew, that was the least of his worries. The statues fell into the water, and he was forced to go along for the ride.

The water was like an icy knife to his shoulder, chest, and leg. He was being dragged down so fast that he couldn't even register the fish swimming away. But he did know this: He was doomed. Even if he got his arm off the cable, he was too deep to swim up again for a breath of air, and even if he wasn't, his dislocated shoulder would hinder his swimming too much to make the swim. He decided to just wait out the ride and drown. He opened his mouth, letting the water fill his lungs, and simply waited. Everything went black.

Like it was all a dream, his eyes bolted open. He expected to be on the marble docks, or on a beach or something. But he was surrounded by brimstone, fire, and intense heat.

"So this is hell," he mused, casually, "all my injuries are healed, so where's the agony?"

"What a retard," "This will be a fun eternity," "He's so dumb." He heard the voices, so familiar, and looked. It was the demonized version of his gang,

"Hey fellas," he said, "glad to see you're all here."

"We ain't glad to see you," "Let's get him," "Dips on his spleen." And his own men were upon him.

…

Meanwhile, Back on Earth, Joe grabbed Frankie and leapt down to Bob.

"Ain't no way you're dyin' today." He said, and grabbed Bob. Like an Orange Hulk he ran on the sides of buildings, the tops of them, and anything he could run across to save his buddy. Frankie held Bob, who was now clinging to what life he could. Joe finally arrived at the hospital, and burst in the doors.

"This man needs healing, NOW!" He yelled. A team of doctors and the like ran to Joe with a stretcher. Joe placed Bob onto it, and Frankie followed the men to the room.

…

Frankie sat in the waiting room, hoping and praying that Bob would be okay. Her unkempt hair and baggy eyes told the world she'd lost sleep worrying for him. When suddenly, the doctor came out.

"How is he?" the woman asked him.

"You got him here just in time," said the doctor, "he'll need surgery to get better, but he'll make it. He's awake if you wish to talk to him." Frankie went into the room. Bob lay in the bed, and looked worried,

"Frankie," he asked, "are you okay?"

"That's not important," said Frankie, "the question is are you?"

"I'll be okay." Said Bob. Frankie walked to his bed,

"What you did was very brave." She said, and together, they shared a true love's kiss, all burning and tender. The love was there, and strong. But the moment was ruined when a doctor came in,

"Time to put you to sleep." Said he said, carrying a syringe. The doctor stuck the needle in Bob's arm. He was beginning to lose consciousness. Before being fully sedated, he said.

"I love you, Frankie."

It was a long walk back to the car, but she finally made it to her sedan and drove back to Foster's.

When she arrived, she was greeted by a barrage of greetings.

"Frankie, you're back!"

"Are you okay?" And most importantly,

"Where's Bob." Frankie recalled the tale of what had happened at the Marble Docks, how Bob was in the hospital, and how his surgery would cost a cool forty thousand. It seemed hard to believe, but every friend gave up their change to help him, some had a fair bit, others a small portion, but all of them together just made forty thousand.

Bob may have beat the bad guy and saved Frankie, but we ain't done here.


	9. Together Forever

Together Forever

Two years fall upon Foster's Home. A lot has changed in those seven hundred fifty days. Bob has long since recovered from his surgery. He and Frankie are madly in love, and don't care who knows it. Mac has since dropped his crush, and has found something of a father figure in the pugilist. Bloo and Bob have dropped their feud, and become friends, even if the blue guy could be a thorn in his side. One day, he and Frankie were doing their regular boxing.

"Hey Frankie," he said, weaving around one of her punches, "I was just wondering if you had any plans for tonight."

"Nothing important," she said, throwing another punch, as it connected with his torso, "why?"

"I know of a really great ice cream place," he said, ducking under a punch and countering to the gut, "If you're up for a milkshake tonight."

"Better than what I had planned tonight," said Frankie, "besides, I love you too much to say no." Bob smiled ear to ear,

"Great," he said, "we'll shove off after dinner." Little did Frankie know that she had fallen into a scheme that Bob had set up a few hours ago.

…

Bob walked into Straight From The Cow, a famous ice creamery in town. The place made its own ice cream, right in the restaurant. None could compare to the freshness and flavor of the stuff. Bob walked to the counter, and asked for the manager. The manager, who had a free moment, came out. She was tall and skinny, with curly blonde hair and a wart on the tip of her nose.

"What can I do for you?" asked the woman,

"I have a plan for a certain someone I care about." Said Bob, "and I want to spend the rest of my life with her." Bob and the manager chatted, and thus, the plan was created.

…

Bob and Frankie walked along the street. It was a bit chilly, but neither were bothered by it, as Frankie wore her usual jacket and Bob was rarely cold. They came to their destination, the ice creamery that Bob had mentioned earlier that day. They walked in, and the scene was rather mundane, as people were simply eating their ice cream, drinking coffee, and just having a rather boring time. The couple walked to the counter and ordered a malt to share. Bob winked at the clerk, and she winked back. That was weird to Frankie, she was way too old for Bob to be flirting with.

The pair took their seats, and chatted about random things. Frankie had found when they'd officially started dating that Bob had a habit of interjecting the original conversation with something new, which would lead them to entirely different conversation topics, but eventually getting back to the original. Today, however, he simply carried on what Frankie was talking about, and it almost annoyed her. But before she could ask Bob if something was wrong, the malt arrived, with two small candies. Another trademark of the restaurant was that their candies were all cowbell shaped. Frankie took her candy to unwrap it, but something was amiss. The candy was stiff, which chocolate was not supposed to be.

Frankie raised a brow; SOMETHING was up. She opened the candy, and there she saw it. Amidst two pieces of cardboard shaped like cowbells, there was a ring. She gasped, Before Bob came to her with a lavender ring box. Frankie handed him the ring, as he put it in.

"Frankie," he said, "you're an amazing woman. You're smart, you're beautiful, and let's face it, you complete me." As Bob continued talking, customers began whispering to each other, pointing to Bob. "You're an enormous source of companionship. Even in what we thought were our last hours, you were there for me. I don't want to picture what my future would be like without you, so I have a question." He got on a knee, and opened the ring Box. "Frankie Foster, will you marry me?" Tears that had been fighting to fall finally did.

"Yes," she said. And so, the newly betrothed Bob and Frankie kissed, right in the middle of the ice creamery. The people around them burst into applause. The clerk whistled to them, shining tears in her eyes.

…

Bob and Frankie walked back into Fosters, and found a large group of the friends watching the TV outside of the kitchen,

"Oh," said Wilt, "you're back. We're having a movie marathon."

"Awww," said Mac, "I'm out of Popcorn."

"I'll get some more," said Bloo, "this time we're having kettle corn."

"Coco," said Coco in disagreement, and said her name three more times. Both of them ran into the kitchen.

"We're not having butter," cried Bloo, "we made that last time."

"Better make sure they don't kill each other," said Frankie, following them in. Bloo and Coco were arguing over boxes of popcorn, trying to pry them from each other and make the popcorn they wanted. Frankie took them,

"We'll make both," she said, "just quit arguing." Bloo saw something on Frankie's hand. He took her hand, and said,

"Is that what I think it is?" Frankie tried to keep him silent, but failed. He flew from the kitchen, yelling.

"Frankie's engaged!" Soon everyone in the vicinity was in an uproar. It wasn't long before they settled down.

"Congratulations, you two." Said Mac.

"Thanks, man." Said Bob.

"I always knew this would happen," said Madame Foster, coming in as soon as she heard the uproar. "You two are so cute together." Coco laid an egg, and from it came bride and groom figures, looking like Bob and Frankie. Eduardo began bawling in his usual behavior, grabbing the couple and rocking them around.

"I'm sorry," said Wilt, "this is more than okay, it's so sweet." Mac looked at the clock.

"Oh, no!" He cried, "I didn't realize how late it was, I'm way past my bedtime. Mom is gonna kill me." With that, he picked up his backpack and floored it home. Wilt took his turn looking at it,

"It IS getting kind of late," he said, before letting out a stiffening yawn, "I'm hitting the hay." The other friends followed suit, even Madame Foster was clearing out. Bob noticed a cushy blanket left behind by a friend, and grabbed it. Frankie laid on him, as Bob laid the blanket over them.

Frankie kissed Bob on the lips before snuggling into his chest. The happy couple fell to sleep this way. The following morning at breakfast, the remainder of the house was informed of Bob and Frankie's engagement. They were greeted with many congrats and well wishes from the majority of the house. Only Duchess had bad things to say about it, but they were used to it by now.

"Why don't we have the wedding here?" Madame Foster suggested,

"I quite agree," said Herriman, "Bob and Frankie haven't got the funds for a fancy church. The seating, the buffet, all of it would be at very little cost here. We could even have extra chairs and the like for their non imaginary friends." Herriman informed them that the wedding would be held at Foster's, like it or not, but Bob and Frankie were not deterred by this.

"And why don't we have friends here at the home fill positions," suggested Frankie. "They'd probably do it for free anyway."

"Good idea," said Bob, "but there's a thousand plus friends here, how do we decide?"

"Let's do it this way," suggested Madame Foster, "you two decide, this being your wedding." Bob and Frankie decided to ask certain roles of the friends.

Mac walked into the home, his usual visiting still intact.

"Mac," cried Bob, "glad I caught you, I have something to ask you."

"What is it, Bob?" asked Mac,

"I was wondering," said Bob, "if you would be my best man." Mac couldn't believe his ears.

"What does a best man do?" he asked.

"Well," said Bob, "A best man is the eye witness to the wedding. A wedding, while hyped to the gills with romance, is still a legal affair. The Best Man basically has to be there during the signing of the documents. So he's a pretty important guy at a wedding. It's often quite an honor to be asked." Mac smiled,

"I'd be honored," he said,

"Perfect," cried Bob, taking a piece of paper from his shirt pocket and crossing off Best Man from his roles. "Now we need a ring bearer."

"I volunteer." Said a voice. The two looked, and who should they see but Bloo. "I'd make the best darn ringbearer you've ever seen."

"How do we know you won't steal the rings?" Asked Bob,

"Do you see any fingers here?" asked Bloo, holding up his stubby hands, "I couldn't wear the rings even if I wanted to."

"Good point," said Bob, "what the heck, go ahead." He crossed Ring Bearer from the list.

…

Frankie approached the green and blue bird known to the world as Coco.

"Hey," she said, "would you like to be the flower girl at our wedding?"

"Coco," she began, and continued in a long list. Frankie, who had known the bird for a very long time now, had come to be able to understand Coco. "Great," she said, taking a list from her jacket pocket and crossing out Flower Girl.

"Now we need a Maid of Honor." When suddenly there were footsteps approaching, and who should be there but Goo. Over the past years, Goo had learned to control her overactive imagination, not spewing out new friends every time she said a word.

"What's a maid of honor do?" she asked.

"A maid of honor," said Frankie, "is pretty much the right hand woman of a bride. She plans the party, leads the bridesmaids, and even being the sergeant at arms. She's like the female version of a Best Man, only with more duties."

"Well," said Goo, "has anyone volunteered yet?"

"No," said Frankie, "I'm looking for someone to fill that position now."

"Well," said Goo, "I volunteer."

"Great!" said Frankie, crossing Maid of Honor from the list.

…

Frankie and Bob met in Madame Foster's office a few hours later.

"Did you get all your roles done?" asked Bob to his Fiancee,

"Yes," said Frankie, "and you." Bob greeted her question with a nod. They took the lists from their pockets, and read aloud who got which role.

"I have Mac as my best man," said Bob, "Bloo is the ring bearer, and I have Uncle Pockets, Joe, and Handy as my groomsmen."

"Coco is the flower girl," said Frankie, "and Goo is my maid of honor. I have Cindy Lou, Jeans Marie, and Louise as my bridesmaids."

Cindy Lou and Jeans Marie were taken in soon after Bob and Frankie officially started dating. Cindy Lou's body was a large white C, and her arms and legs were blue L's. Jeans Marie was a pair of pants with eyes, and her mouth was the fly of the pants.

"But there's still the issue of the Priest," said Frankie."

"I have a friend," said Madame Foster, "who can fill that position." She picked up the phone and gave a call,

"Jim, It's Foster. Good to talk to you too. Listen, you remember Frankie, my granddaughter? She's getting married, and we're having the wedding here at the home, and we need a priest. You will? Splendid. They haven't decided yet, I'll ask them." She took the phone away from her ear, "When do you guys want to get married?" Frankie and Bob talked about it for a bit, and they decided to wait a week.

"They're having the wedding in a week," said Foster. "Great, see you then." She hung up.

This chapter is pretty long so I'll cut it here. Hope you like it, now all he have to do is have the wedding.


	10. The Wedding

The wedding.

The week passed by slowly for Bob and Frankie, while for everyone else, it passed in the blink of an eye. The foyer in the home had become the chapple. The all of the friends were attending, and a few humans that were friends of Bob and Frankie. Bob was currently standing under the altar, which had been built just for the occasion by Wilt, Eduardo, Bloo, and Coco. Mac stood by him, in a specially made tuxedo. The friends chatted, while waiting for Frankie to come out of the dressing room.

Near the end of the foyer was a huge table, filled with a wide array of snack foods, and even two weddings cakes, one of which was sugar free so Mac could have some. Dinner items were on the table too, like chicken, salads, and many more items. Bob's tuxedo was a black one with a rose in his torso pocket. His glasses were cleaned to a neat shine, and he was over ecstatic about today.

Frankie's dress was a real head turner. The skirt was large, to the point Frankie couldn't even put her hands on her hips, and she wore ivory high heels to go with it. The top was tight around her chest and waist to show off her curves. She wore a pearl necklace, and white bracelets.

The bride was in her dressing room, going over her vows in the mirror, when there was a knock on the door.

"Who is it?" asked Frankie,

"Your grandmother," said the voice at the other side of the door, "may I come in?"

"Go ahead," said Frankie. The knob turned, and the lady walked in,

"Are you ready?" she asked,

"Yes," said Frankie. And so the two walked to the room. Upon seeing Frankie and Madame Foster, a few friends played "Here comes the bride" on kazoos. Frankie and Madame Foster walked to the end of the aisle, and when they arrived, Madame Foster took her spot on a pew next to Mr. Herriman.

"Dearly beloved," said the man hired to be the priest, "we are gathered here today to unite Robert and Francis in Holy Matrimony." As the man continued to talk, Bob and Frankie had a bit of a telepathic conversation.

"Frankie," Bob's head sent to Frankie's, "I love you. I'll be there for you to my last breath. I would kill to see you smile, or jump halfway to insanity to taste your kiss."

"Bob," Frankie's Head sent to Bob's, "You're all I ever wanted or needed. I aim to please you." Soon, though, the preacher got to the best part,

"Robert," he said, "do you take Frankie to be your lawfully wedded wife? To cherish and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

"I do," said Bob, with a smile.

"Francis," said the Preacher, "do you take Robert to be your lawfully wedded husband? To cherish and to hold, for better or for worse, in sickness and in health, till death do you part?"

"I do," said Frankie,

"Then by the power invested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife, you may kiss the bride." Bob and Frankie thus engaged in a true love's kiss, all burning and tender. The crowd burst into applause. Herriman noticed that Foster had tears in here eyes.

"Is there a problem?" he asked her,

"My little girl," she said, "has become a woman." After the kiss ended, Frankie took her bouquet and turned her back to the audience. She flung her bouquet through the air. And who should catch it but Alex, one of Frankie's best female friends. Frankie then sat down, and Bob removed the garter. A crowd of men gathered before him, and Bob flung the garter. Who should catch it but Henry. And thus, Bob and Frankie lived out their lives in peace.

And so ends The New Guy. I have an idea for a sequel. Should I post a sneak peak of it as an extra chapter or should I leave you all guessing?


	11. Sticking With You Literally Sneak Peek

Though I have finished The New Guy, I decided that I wanted to make a sequel. It's called Sticking With You Literally, where Bob and Frankie get stuck together. Here is a sneak peek.

Frankie looked at the situation she had fallen into. Her husband was currently handcuffed to her, and he was just as unhappy about it as she was, for anyone with a brain knows never to intervene when a couple is arguing. When they were handing out brains, Bloo must have swapped his for his unique color. But that didn't matter now, as the blue one didn't know where the key was, and they would be stuck like this until they found a way out of the cuffs. They would ask the friends that they passed if they knew anything about keys, but so far that had been about as effective as trying to get Bloo to look for the key, since his logic was it wasn't him handcuffed to Frankie, and therefore not his problem, even though he caused it.

"Why don't we talk to Coco?" said Bob, "I'll wager she can cook up a key no sweat."

"That's the smartest thing you've said all day." said Frankie. She could see that that had annoyed Bob, but he shrugged it off. The couple walked together to Coco's room, and knocked on the door.

"Coco." said the voice on the other end, only something was wrong. The voice that said the word sounded labored, raspy, and weak. But Bob and Frankie knew that Coco had granted access into her room. They opened the door, and the sight was not pretty. Coco's feathers and looked pale, her eyes were half open, and what the couple could see of her eyes was bloodshot. Her hair wasn't its usual red, it looked a steamy white.

"Coco," said the bird, and repeated the mantra a few more times.

"A sickness that only happens once a month?" asked Bob, before looking at Frankie, "remind you of someone?"

"Shut it." she snapped.

"This is inconvenient," said Bob, "because Coco's sick, she can't lay eggs. And because she can't lay eggs, we're back to square one." Coco said her name again before pointing with her break at a white jar.

"That's your medicine?" Asked Frankie, "Bob and I will certainly get it for you." Bob and Frankie walked to the shelf, and knew that it was too tall for either one of them.

"Here," said Bob, "I have an idea. Get on my shoulders, and I'll lift you up."

"If you drop me," warned Frankie, "you'll sleep on the couch for the next month." Bob said nothing in return, getting on his knees, and allowing Frankie to get on. She stepped gingerly onto her husband's shoulders. Then slowly as not to make Frankie lose her balance, Bob lifted up. She was lighter than he expected her to be, what with what was happening today. Frankie used the shelf to balance herself as she gained altitude. Then she saw the jar, and a label. It was written in a language Frankie couldn't read. The characters all looked like a child took a few pens and went nuts on a piece of paper, scribbling and doodling where there was room to do so. She reached up quickly for the jar. Her arm stopped short, and Bob yelped in pain.

"I'M A PUGILIST NOT A CHEERLEADER!" he yelled.

"Sorry," Frankie said, actually feeling bad about it, but not too. She refocused and reached for the jar again, slower this time.

I will cut it here. The chapter will be longer when it's time for this particular one in the story.


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